


whipped

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Akaashi considers Osamu’s wiggling eyebrows and plucks the spoon out of his hand. "We don't need that.""But-""I'll clean up any mess you make."
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71
Collections: Anonymous





	whipped

Osamu stands in the doorway of the Osaka apartment that, through a serendipitous and mysterious series of events, he and one Akaashi Keiji have been living together in for half a year. It is Saturday. It is a little past one in the afternoon. He has just come back from buying groceries at the konbini down the street. Osamu’s hand tightens around the bags in his hand as he takes in the scene before him: Akaashi, looking like a dream with sunlight from the window framing his body, wearing Osamu’s black apron over a faded shirt from high school--a cartoon dog with the words “S E T T E R !”--and best of all, in the kitchen. He has a mixing bowl clutched to his chest, a whisk in his right hand, and a face furrowed in concentration. 

Osamu smiles to himself, toeing his sneakers off and pushing them with socked feet into the line of shoes just to the side of their door, then shuts and locks it. He places the grocery bags on the kitchen table and walks over to Akaashi, sliding his arms around his waist and tucking his chin into his shoulder.

“Osamu.” Akaashi says, twisting his head to blink at him. Osamu kisses his cheek and Akaashi smiles faintly and presses the side of his face softly against Osamu’s in return. 

“Hi. Whatcha makin’?”

Akaashi ducks his head back down to concentrate on the contents of the bowl. He says quietly, “It’s a secret, don’t look,” to which Osamu immediately bends forward to look.

“No.” Akaashi sets the whisk into the bowl and pushes Osamu’s face back with his hand. “Put the food away.”

Osamu sighs contentedly and steps back. He begins putting the groceries away, starting with the instant cup noodles that Akaashi insists helps him on deadline days, even though Osamu could always make him actual, good ramen. He idly tries to recall when Akaashi said his next deadline was so he can try making him said ramen when Akaashi goes, “AHHHHHH.”

Osamu closes the refrigerator door and pads over to Akaashi, who eyes the bowl like it wronged him specifically. Osamu puts his hand on the edge of the bowl and tips it, eyebrows raising when he looks inside. Akaashi sets the bowl down and wordlessly hands him his phone, and Osamu reads,

The Perfect Homemade Whipped Cream

Ingredients:  
1 cup heavy whipping cream  
1 teaspoon vanilla extract  
1 tablespoon confectioners' sugar

“It was going to be a surprise.” Akaashi murmurs, wringing his hands together. “But it’s runny.”

Osamu’s heart leaps at the sincerity of this gesture, but he knows that to comment on it now would disgruntle a frustrated Akaashi further. He keeps his face neutral as he says, “It’s runny cause you need to beat it, and we don’t have an electric mixer that does that.”

“So it’s going to stay like this even if I keep stirring?”

“Yup. You should follow directions instead of just screenshotting the ingredients,” Osamu tsks, but there’s only amusement in his voice. He grabs the whisk and quickly licks it clean, then drops it into the sink, now a futile utensil. “Tasty, though. And anyway--” Osamu turns to the fridge again, opening it and rummaging inside to pull out the container he’s had hidden in the back for days, “I already bought this!” he declares, brandishing a small canister of aerosol whipped cream.

“You should’ve waited until it was on sale.” Akaashi says blankly, because he’s the kind of person who bases his food purchases off of store ads. But he still leans in to read the label.

Osamu watches him, beaming despite himself. “I couldn’t wait. Let’s try it.”

“Right now?” Akaashi straightens, raising an eyebrow. They both recall their conversation from a week before: _“It could be fun.” “I think it’d be sticky, but I’m into it.” “You’re into anything that has to do with eating, Samu.” “That’s true.”_

“Why not?” Osamu says, wielding the can dramatically and pointing it at Akaashi, whose lips turn up at the corners. Akaashi pushes the can down with his hand and his smile grows as he inclines his head silently towards the bedroom. He starts to turn but stops in his tracks when Osamu grabs Akaashi’s bowl of whipped cream.

“C'mon, Keiji.” Osamu whines when Akaashi squints at him. “You were so sweet to make it.”

Akaashi’s stare is flat. “It’s basically liquid. How…” 

“I’ll use a spoon.” Osamu suggests. Working in the food industry gives him the ability to deftly open their utensil drawer with his elbow and grab a spoon with the same hand that holds the bowl. “I’ll feed ya, but sexily.” 

“Okay.” Akaashi considers Osamu’s wiggling eyebrows and plucks the spoon out of his hand. "We don't need that."

"But-"

"I'll clean up any mess you make." Akaashi drops the spoon back in the drawer, closing it with a bump of his hip. He wraps his hand around Osamu’s wrist and tugs. Osamu lets himself be pulled forward, his heart dropping. 

Once they’re inside their bedroom, Osamu begins feeling just a little dumb doublefisting two containers of whipped cream. He sets them both on the nightstand and scrambles onto the bed, sitting with his back resting against the headboard. Akaashi follows him more slowly, taking his time to crawl into Osamu’s lap. Osamu’s hands immediately go to his waist and Akaashi shifts, wrapping his arms around Osamu’s neck. They look at each other contentedly for a moment before leaning in together, the first press of their lips soft and chaste. Akaashi teases Osamu’s mouth open gently with his tongue, warmth slipping into the seam of his lips. Osamu tilts his head, their tongues sliding together slow and sweet, getting lost in the heat of it. 

Osamu pulls away first to squeeze Akaashi’s hips and murmur against his lips, “Thank you for makin' whipped cream.”

Akaashi huffs through his nose, threading his hands in Osamu’s hair. “What I made was not whipped cream, but you’re welcome.” Akaashi leans in again, pressing his tongue to the roof of Osamu’s mouth. Osamu smiles, taking Akaashi’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugging softly. He moves his hands from Akaashi’s waist to his back, pulling at the knot on his apron.

“Oh.” Akaashi draws back and looks down at the apron, watching it sag around his chest once Osamu gets it untied. “I forgot I was wearing this.”

“Yer cute in it.” Osamu says, pausing for a moment when he feels foreign weight in the apron as he lifts it. “Keiji, you put yer phone in here?” he chuckles, taking it off, blocking Akaashi’s face with the black canvas of the apron for a moment. When Akaashi’s face reappears, it’s twisted in a pout. He says, “It’s a big pocket.”

Osamu laughs out loud at that, pulling the phone out and then folding the apron quickly. He exchanges phone and apron on the night stand for the bowl of whipped cream, setting it down between them. They both tip their heads down to stare at it.

After a beat Akaashi says “Ha. That’s not lube.” and Osamu groans, headbutting Akaashi in the chest. With his face so close to the bowl he can smell the whipped cream, cloyingly sweet. 

“Yer jokes are bad, but yer sex jokes are even worse.”

“Is that what we’re doing? I thought we were going to bake-”

“You talk too much,” Osamu complains, pressing into Akaashi’s chest further. Akaashi puts a finger under Osamu’s chin and draws his face back up, wordlessly bringing their lips back together, and neither of them speak for a while.

“Off, off, off.” 

“Heh.”

“Hm?”

“I just think it’s funny you take such good care of your apron but toss clothes like that.”

“Shh.” Osamu whispers against Akaashi’s skin, closing his eyes. He tugs at Akaashi's waist to bring them closer together, mouthing along his neck.

Akaashi’s hands card through Osamu’s hair as he dotes on him, tugging when Osamu traces Akaashi’s collarbone with his tongue. Osamu murmurs “I wanna try here,” and when Akaashi hums he dips two fingers into the bowl, then runs them along the sharp lines of Akaashi’s collarbone. The creamy liquid immediately begins to run down Akaashi’s bare chest. Osamu quickly drags his tongue against Akaashi’s soft, warm skin, dipping into the hollow at the base of Akaashi’s throat, following the sweetness down Akaashi’s chest until all of it is gone. When Osamu looks back up Akaashi’s eyes are dreamy and unfocused. 

“You got some on your face,” Akaashi says quietly, and his voice is just as affected.

Osamu goes to wipe it off with his clean hand and Akaashi stops him, bringing his hand to Osamu’s and threading their fingers together. “Let me.” he whispers, leaning forward, his breath fanning hot air against Osamu’s face. Akaashi delicately licks cream off Osamu’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth. Osamu’s breath stutters, then stops completely when Akaashi reaches for his other hand, bringing his sticky fingers to his mouth. Akaashi curls his tongue around Osamu’s fingers and Osamu swallows and exhales shakily as Akaashi relaxes his jaw and bobs his head, blinking at him. 

Akaashi pulls off Osamu’s fingers out with a wet pop, wiggling out of Osamu’s lap and flopping onto his back, spreading his knees. He says airily, “Come on, Samu. You said you’d feed me.” 

His words are pure heat, going straight into Osamu’s body. Osamu sets the bowl aside and quickly grabs the can of whipped cream and uncaps it, breaking off the plastic seal. Akaashi licks his lips in an obscene way, dragging the tip of his tongue languidly.

“Open up.” Osamu whispers, shaking the can, and Akaashi’s mouth drops for him. 

*

One shower and two containers stored back in the fridge later, Osamu lays in bed with his hands behind his head. Akaashi lays on his side next to him, lightly pressing his fingertips into the newly forming marks on Osamu’s neck.

“Damn.” Osamu says to the ceiling fervently.

Akaashi’s hand stills, and when Osamu turns his head to look at him, Akaashi’s unfocused gaze sharpens into a frown. Osamu adores that, how Akaashi’s face shifts from one expression to another without preamble. 

“What other foods are there?” Akaashi asks gravely, eyebrows creasing further.

“Uhhh. I dunno.” Osamu grins and Akaashi immediately mirrors it with a smaller, close lipped smile. “You were into it, huh?”

“I like trying new things with you.” Akaashi says, and Osamu feels his face heat up at his honesty. Akaashi must like whatever face he makes, because his smile deepens into a smirk. “I’ll look it up,” he continues, reaching over Osamu to grab his phone from the night stand. Osamu lifts his head to kiss Akaashi’s chest in the second he hovers over him. 

“You could eat onigiri off me,” Osamu suggests as Akaashi settles back in the bed with his phone in his hand. Akaashi kicks his shin. “Ow.”

They lay there for a few minutes, Akaashi tapping on his phone with the same silence inducing concentration he puts into everything he does, and Osamu blinking up at the cobwebs on their ceiling. If he crosses his eyes just so, it looks like they’re swaying. Osamu opens his mouth to voice this discovery when Akaashi turns to drape his upper body over Osamu’s chest.

Akaashi holds his phone out to Osamu, who for his part cranes his neck and squints with all energy he can muster, but he’s still too spent to concentrate. He gently pulls the phone out of Akaashi’s hand and turns it around so the screen is facing Akaashi, sliding it back in his hands. “Nah. Can’t read." 

Akaashi rolls his eyes and continues scrolling, wiggling a little to get comfortable on Osamu’s chest. Osamu drapes an arm over Akaashi’s upper back and Akaashi hums appreciatively, burrowing his chin against Osamu’s warm skin. 

Deciding that he doesn’t want silence anymore, Osamu muses, “How can you read a whole article right now when I can barely just lay here?”

“Cause you were so into it.” Akaashi teases, and then continues in the lower pitched voice he uses when he reads drafts to Osamu, “Surprise him in bed with chocolate, the world’s most powerful aphrodisiac!”

“Well, shit. If it’s the world’s most powerful we gotta try it.” Osamu drawls, feeling proud of himself when Akaashi shakes with silent laughter against his chest. After a beat, he feels Akaashi tense over him. 

“Samu.” Akaashi says, quiet and vehement, placing his phone face down on Osamu’s pec. 

“I'm not a table,” Osamu grumbles, picking the phone up off him and placing it back on the nightstand. Akaashi ignores him, pushing himself up with his hands and crawling up Osamu’s body to place his hands on either side of his head. Akaashi’s solemn face crowds Osamu’s view and Osamu's frown fades. Akaashi’s hair is a damp wreck. His face is still slightly flushed from before, blush high on his cheeks. Osamu is whipped.

“Yeah?” Osamu says softly, tracing a finger along Akaashi’s jaw.

“If we try chocolate, we could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow and get straw-”

“CHOCOLATE STRAWBERRIES!” Osamu yells, and Akaashi laughs out loud, a bright and rare sound that fills Osamu’s whole world with dizzying warmth. Akaashi presses his hand against Osamu’s mouth and his voice wavers as he says, “Keep it down. We’ve already scarred our neighbors enough.”

In a muffled voice Osamu continues, “Keiji. We can eat 'em with the leftover whipped cream.”

Akaashi’s eyes widen and he pushes off Osamu, flopping onto his back beside him. They both inspect the ceiling cobwebs with sobering scrutiny as they consider this revelation. 

Akaashi whispers in an awed voice, “You’re a genius.”

**Author's Note:**

> and then the next day they went to the farmer's market and held hands 
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
